As the sun sank beneath the horizon, casting an eerie twilight glow upon the land, the atmosphere grew heavy with a foreboding stillness. Shadows danced and twisted, stretching across the landscape like grotesque specters. The three hooded figures stood before their king, presenting their report. The first figure, a tall and robust individual, spoke with a voice like smoldering wood, With a reverent bow, he announced, "My king, we have located the artifact you sought."
The second figure, their light cream-blue hair cascading from beneath the hood, also lowered themselves in a respectful bow as they continued to deliver their account. "However, the area where it is located is plagued by an overwhelming infestation of scorn," they explained. A sense of futility and frustration colored their words. "We attempted to clear them out, but their numbers proved insurmountable. As you are aware, no magic or Blazon have any effect on these abominations."
King Vishera let out a weary sigh, his expression burdened with the weight of their findings. "You've all done well," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with gratitude. "There was no need for you to engage the creatures and put your lives in peril." A weak smile graced his lips, a fleeting gesture of appreciation.
The final hooded figure stood silently, a small bird perched upon their shoulder. The avian creature possessed iridescent feathers that shimmered with an brilliance, captivating the eye. The final hooded figure bowed low before their king, their voice laced with a somber tone. "Your brother, my king, has been sighted deep within the treacherous forest of Lost Whispers." A heavy silence descended upon the chamber, as each person present recoiled at the mention of that forsaken place. Lost Whispers, once a forest of lush trees and ethereal beauty, had succumbed to the rotting clutches of the scorn. The very forest that once emanated tranquility and splendor had transformed into a putrid abomination, a festering cesspool of rot
Within the twisted depths of Lost Whispers, the air was thick with a suffocating sense of foreboding. Everywhere one turned, creatures of scorn lurked, their forms contorted and corrupted by malevolence. Toxic spores oozed from every pore, releasing a deadly secretion that could sicken and extinguish life with a single touch.
What made this revelation even more unsettling was that the king's own brother Khorath , once banished from the kingdom by his younger sibling, had resurfaced in this nightmarish forest. Driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding, he had mutilated his own kin in his relentless pursuit of understanding of an artifact left behind by their father, further fueling the fearsome reputation that clung to him like a sinister shadow. An unsettling mix of fear and concern twisted the king's face as he absorbed the news. Determined to take action, he swiftly moved towards a room situated on the left side of the castle. The metallic clanging of weapons being moved and shifted resonated through the air as the king rummaged through a makeshift storage area. With each careful selection, he retrieved what appeared to be a collection of formidable armaments.
Urging his children to draw closer, the king's gaze held determination. With a deep understanding of his brother's nature, he deduced that his sibling would likely have ventured beyond the boundaries of the accursed Lost Whispers forest. Icon, the eldest among his offspring, caught the trident that his father tossed towards him. Its golden form shimmered, showcasing exquisite craftsmanship. The shaft of the weapon boasted engravings depicting massive sea creatures, running along its length in a mesmerizing spiral pattern. Towards the top of the shaft, an opening housed a small orb of water, no larger than a thumb. The prongs of the trident were barbed, each tip honed to a lethal point, ready to pierce through flesh and bone. A smile spread across Icon's face as his eyes fell upon his long-lost weapon, a treasured heirloom passed down through the generations. This mighty weapon had been gifted to his father by his grandfather, and now it was bestowed upon Icon from a tender age. With a fluid motion, he twirled the weapon around him, testing the familiarity and mastery that time could not diminish.
YOU ARE READING
To Just Exist
FantasíaCreatures from a dying world sought refuge in another realm, desperate to escape their ever-mounting problems. Unbeknownst to them, the World they had stumbled upon was far more sinister than anything they could have ever imagined.
